At the time of Mr. Shamble's sermon (an erratic Anglican divine hired
for the season at places of English resort, and addicted to debts,
drinking, and even to roulette, it was said), Pen, chafing under the
persecution which his womankind inflicted upon him, had been
meditating a great act of revolt and of justice, as he had worked
himself up to believe; and Warrington on his part had been thinking
that a crisis in his affairs had likewise come, and that it was
necessary for him to break away from a connection which every day made
more and more wretched and dear to him. Yes, the time was come. He
took those fatal words, "Perhaps that is what you wished," as a text
for a gloomy homily, which he preached to himself, in the dark pew of
his own heart, while Mr. Shamble was feebly giving utterance to his
sermon.
CHAPTER XIX.
"FAIROAKS TO LET."
[Illustration]
Our poor widow (with the assistance of her faithful Martha of
Fairoaks, who laughed and wondered at the German ways, and
superintended the affairs of the simple household) had made a little
feast in honor of Major Pendennis's arrival, of which, however, only
the major and his two younger friends partook, for Helen sent to say
that she was too unwell to dine at their table, and Laura bore her
company.
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